The Name of The Game: Trust
by slowpoke15hi5
Summary: Malik likes Altair but the elder assassin can't stop feeling responsible for Kadar's death. With the help of a long forgotten gift from his brother, Malik seduces Altair. Originally a fill for the tattoo fetish post on LJ Kink Meme. Altair/Malik Slash.


Title: The Name of the Game: Trust

Summary: Malik likes Altair but the elder assassin can't stop feeling responsible for Kadar's death. With the help of a long forgotten gift from his brother, Malik seduces Altair. Originally a fill for the tattoo fetish post on LJ Kink Meme. Altair/Malik Slash. Rated M/R/NC-17. PWP

Word Count: 3,602

Warnings: none really- other than a few curse words in Italian...so no worries there :D Oh...and I guess there is mention of past incest- but only just.

Rating: M/R/NC-17

A/N: This short little ditty was originally written for the kink meme on LJ but I decided to post it here instead because I'm a review whore-what can I say? It was inspired by the second art fill on said meme (a link can be found on my profile page). I've never actually played the game (because my hand-eye coordination is shit) but I've seen several friends play so I'm a fan of the game regardless. Please let me know what you think.

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><p>Malik was sitting on his bed, having finished his duties for the day, reading when a very sweaty and very exhausted looking Altair came in. Pretending to be reading, Malik watched as Altair went to the guest bed the burrow had set up and started to undress. It wasn't uncommon for any of the assassins to spend the night here, and the mission Altair was currently on had him here more often than not. The master assassin stripped down to only his underclothes, preparing to take a bath to cleanse himself after the day of hard work. Silently Malik watched and practically drooled as the other assassin reveled more and more of his skin.<p>

Altair was covered in some sort of black substance, charcoal perhaps, that left lines dancing around his forearms, legs and neck. iPerhaps the man had fallen in a fire pit or broken a pot full of clay?/iThe black hid and accented some of the younger's scars in turn; making his already muscled body seem all the more pronounced and glorious. A lump formed in Malik's throat as he took in the other's darkened and dirty appearance.

Turning around, bathing things gathered in his arms, Altair noticed Malik for the first time. The one armed man was watching him over a book, a strange look in his eyes. Frowning, guilt raised and turned in his stomach as it always did when he looked at Malik's stump of an arm. Altair made his way to the bathroom, leaving his not-quite enemy/not-quite-friend and his strange looks behind him.

Once Altair was out of the room, Malik blinked and his clouded brain cleared; once again able to think. Malik had always found Altair attractive, even after the disaster in Solomon's Temple. But, seeing the black lines of dirt/charcoal/clay on his body sent Malik's mind racing. He wanted so badly for those lines to be permanent, forever tracing the assassin's skin. He wanted to put those lines there, and other places on the Arabian's body, marking him, changing him forever; it was so hot! A half laid plan began forming in his mind.

XxX

Altair came out of the tub sqeaky clean, all traces of dirt, sweat and charcoal gone. Walking back to his side of the room, he noted that Malik had abandoned his book and was fussing over something on his left shoulder. iWas it him or was Malik purposefully avoiding his eyes?/i Tying the red towel around his waist he abandoned his clothes and bath supplies on his bed as curiosity got the better of him.

Walking over to Malik's side, cautiously in case today was one of the days Malik was prone to fight, he leaned over and studied what his ibrother/i was doing. Malik had a thin paper tube in his hand and was carefully squeezing out a swirling design in some sort of red-brown paste. The design started on the edge of the assassin's shoulder and spread out, forming a circle with intricate patterns similar to that of a sun. Bringing his hand forward Altair made as if to touch the paste but his hand was slapped away before he could do so.

"What is it," asked Altair. Malik looked up at him and fixed him with a stare. For a long time the assassin just looked at him, saying nothing. About to give up and go back to his side, Altair finally heard Malik speak, "It's called henna. It is a sort of painted clay you can put on your body that marks the skin and stays there for a while. They use it in Africa to symbolize different cultures and tribes and such." Malik looked at his marked shoulder and continued, still looking down, "At least, that's what Kadar said when he gave it to me. He'd bought it as a gift before…" Malik swallowed, his brother's death still too near to the surface, but far enough away that he no longer cried.

Malik looked up to see Altair's eyes wet and shiny looking down at him, looking for all the world like he was about to cry. "I'm sorry," he whispered, tears about to spill over. "I'm so sorry. I was reckless….and stupid…and I'm just so sorry Malik, please, iplease/i say you forgive me?"

Inside, Malik smiled, happy to hear, yet again, how sorry Altair really was. He wanted to tell the other assassin to forget about it, that he had forgiven him already, but, that would not work with his plan. Besides, Kadar would be pleased to see Malik using the henna for such a trick. So, outwardly he said, "Altair…I will forgive you…but…I just…sometimes it's hard to trust you. But that's not really all…sometimes I feel as if you can't trust ime/i, don't feel like you can rely on your brother. You ican/i trust me, Altair- you should have trusted us to help you before you rushed in at the temple. Maybe if you did something to prove that you have changed, that you aren't the same man you were, then I could forgive you."

Malik could have grinned outright when he heard Altair reply with a hasty, "Anything, brother, anything. How can I prove to you that I trust you, that you can trust me?"

"You can make it up to me by letting me put henna on you and trusting me not to draw anything too offensive or obscene; trust me to mark you."

Altair was shocked at how simple and relatively easy Malik's request was. He decided that the childish phallic symbol likely to result from this activity would be worth whatever humiliation he got. If nothing else, letting Malik mark him would at least help get rid of some of his guilt. He quickly agreed telling Malik to draw anything he wanted. "Where would you like it?" Malik asked, a mysterious tone in his voice.

"Anywhere you want of course. I trust you," was the reply.

Malik grinned evilly and stood up, pushing Altair down on his bed, looming over him. Carefully, as it was difficult not to lose balance and fall over, Malik made his way to the floor so he was kneeling in front of Altair. He told the younger man to spread his legs. Altair's eyes went wide but he did as he was told and watched as Malik scooted forward.

Careful not to expose Altair's penis (because he didn't want to get a hard on and reveal his true intentions), Malik pulled the red towel down Altair's hips until he had full access to his lower abdomen. Picking up the henna, Malik began to write- starting at Altair's right hipbone and moving to his left. It took a good ten minutes to write out the simple phrase. Once he was done, Malik moved onto Altair's left arm and once again began to mark him.

A half an hour later, Malik was finally done. Altair had a design that littered his right forearm with swirls, sharp edges and dots. Along his hipbones read: "Safety and Peace."

Still between his legs, Malik stared down at the man in front of him and had to swallow his growing pool of saliva. iHow many times had he envisioned this? To be kneeling down in front of his desired- close enough to smell him?/i Malik admired his handy work and stood up, attempting to put more space between them so he wouldn't do anything he would regret; it was risky enough being so close to another man's crotch. Crossing the room and tossing the remaining henna in the trash, he told Altair, "You have to wait for it to dry before you remove it or it won't work. Once it starts to get hard and crumbles you can wait for it to fall off on its own or you can pick it off. Knowing you, you'll probably be too impatient to wait."

And with that, Malik picked up the book he had been reading and left the room. Altair began to sit up so he could move to his own bed but discovered that crunching his abs enough to sit caused the henna to move. So, not wanting to mess it up, and therefore make Malik mad at him, he swung is legs over so he was lying down on the bed and settled in for a nap. Hopefully by the time he woke up it would be dry and he wouldn't have to wait anymore.

As he slept, he dreamed_. _iAt first, it was just images. He was chasing a thief, trying to get information from him. Then he was leaping off a building into a haystack. Next he was back in training, learning how to use a sword. The longer he slept, the more the images began to run together, creating a conscious train of thought. An image of Malik bending over, clenching his stump of an arm as blood flooded out, a look of anguish on his face, blended into the Malik from just a few moments ago, sitting on his knees in front of him. Dream Malik looked up at Altair and grinned, not unrealistic in itself, and undid the red towel completely, exposing Altair. His eyes became dark and dream Malik's hand came up to brush Altair's cock. Instantly, perhaps instinctually, Altair became hard. His breath stopped and caught in his throat and his hips jerked upward, begging to be touched again. Malik complied, gripping Altair firmly in his hand. Then, much to Altair's horror (and delight), Malik leaned forward and blew warm breath over him. Without warning, Malik took Altair into his mouth./i

Altair jerked awake, body automatically sitting up and heart racing. He looked down and realized that, at twenty-five mind you, he'd had a wet dream. Horrified by this realization, he moved to get off the bed and to the bathroom when he heard a rustling by the window. He looked up to see Malik staring at him. No, not at him, at his (now uncovered) cock.

XxX

After sitting and reading his book in the back room until night had fallen, Malik returned to his room to see if Altair's henna had dried. He walked through the door and the first thing he noticed was that it was pitch black. Making his way over to the window, he pulled open the curtain to allow the moon to light the room. When he looked over to his bed he gulped. Altair was laying down sound asleep. At some point he must have moved because his towel had come undone and was open, exposing Altair's rather impressive penis.

As he watched, Altair trashed around and his cock became hard. Time went on and Malik was rooted to the spot, unable to look away from the sight of Altair thrusting his hips. Altair bucked and squirmed until suddenly he came. His whole body tensed and immediately after he sat up like a bat out of hell, breath panting. He looked down and a blush came over his cheeks as he realized what had happened. Malik shifted uncomfortably trying to erase any evidence of his now straining erection. He wanted to close the curtain so Altair wouldn't be able to see him but if he moved, he knew Altair would know anyway. So, he just stood there and continued to stare.

XxX

Malik continued to stare at Altair's penis and Altair continued to state at Malik staring at him. When the mess on Altair's crotchal region began to cool and dry, therefore becoming uncomfortable, Altair once again made to move. When he shifted the angle of light made it apparent that Malik had an erection. It didn't take long for Altair to put two and two together- Malik had watched him, and Malik had an erection- therefore, Malik was hard because he watched Altair have a wet dream? Being the brave assassin that he was, Altair decided to test this theory.

Malik still hadn't looked away from Altair's crotch so Altair knew that Malik hadn't seen him notice him. Slowly, Altair lifted his hips and removed the towel from underneath him. Then, leaning back down so he was flat on his back he began to clean himself off with the towel. He leisurely rubbed off all evidence of his dream, carefully watching Malik's reaction out of the corner of his eye. Malik's cock twitched as he watched and he shifted on his feet. Altair took this as a sign that Malik liked him, or at least liked his body.

Never one to beat around the bush, Altair figured that Malik liked him, and if his dream was anything to go by, he obviously harbored at least sexual feelings for the other man. So, he decided to act on them. "Are you just going to stand there, or don't you want to come over here and see how the henna turned out?"*

Malik's eyes snapped up and looked at Altair's. He visibly gulped and tried, in vain, to cover his arousal. Attempting an air of nonchalance, as if he hadn't just been a peeping tom, Malik asked, "Dreaming about Maria were you?" Carefully, he walked over to Altair, the other man HAD given him an excuse to come closer, after all.

Once Malik was standing over him, close enough to see the dried henna, Altair answered, "No. I was dreaming about someone else actually. Someone my subconscious tells me I'm attracted to." As he talked he moved the towel, completely exposing himself to his elder. "Someone who…has a different anatomy than Maria. Someone who…I trust implicitly, who I hope now trusts me?" He said the last bit like a question, hoping Malik would catch his question, and with it, his confession.

Malik wasn't stupid. He caught on quick enough. After all, it wasn't hard to mistake Altair's message when the assassin's cock was hardening under Malik's gaze. Gathering his courage, Malik sat down on the bed and reached out to brush off the hardened henna from Altair's arm. Altair shivered at the light touch and looked down to his torso, in silent question he looked back up at Malik.

Subconsciously wetting his lips, Malik swept the back of his hand along Altair's abs, rubbing off the henna as he went. The dark brown, almost black, of the henna marked Altair's skin beautifully; Malik's mouth watered. He wanted nothing more than to lick his way across the other assassins tattoo; wanted to follow the lines with his tongue and taste his skin. An hour ago Malik wouldn't have had the courage. But, an hour ago he hadn't watched Altair have a wet dream about him.

So, slowly, asking permission with his eyes, he leaned forward and kissed Altair's left hip, sucking his skin in between his teeth and nipping gently. Above him he heard Altair let out a deep, throaty moan. The sound urged him on and he licked along the letters until he reached the other side, again lightly biting it. Altair squirmed beneath him as Malik made his way up his torso, stopping to lick his navel before continuing up. He licked, sucked and nibbled his way up Altair's body until he reached his neck. Leaning over him, Malik looked Altair in the eyes and asked, "Can I kiss you?"

"Please."

Malik didn't have to be told twice. He'd wanted this for so long; wanted to kiss him, to hold him, ifeel/i him. Laying his body over his younger's, Malik leaned forward and gently touched Altair's lips with his own. It was so soft, a whisper of a kiss. But soon, it turned into a burning fire that consumed him and the whisper transformed into a shout; a declaration of passion.

Altair answered with as good as he got. His right arm went around Malik's back, pulling the assassin down on him, closer. His left hand rested on the back of Malik's neck, the touch light but warm; solid. Malik trust his hips into Altair's and hissed at the sensation. Altair's hips thrust back.

Breaking the kiss, Malik made his way back down Altair's body, this time stopping at each nipple giving both a small bite. He slithered down the assassin's body until he was laying between Altair's legs, his head level with the younger's twitching cock. Resting his weight on his left shoulder, Malik reached his right hand up to Altair's face and presented three of his fingers, "Suck." Altair did, taking the fingers into his mouth and lathering them with his saliva, twirling his tongue around and in between them.

Malik retracted his hand and brought it down to Altair's tight hole. When he did, Altair tensed and his breathing picked up. Malik blew out warm breath over Altair's member trying to distract him- it didn't work. So, in as soothing a voice as at all possible, he said, "Shhhh. It's okay. Just relax brother. Trust me; I won't hurt you. Take deep breaths and just relax, I've got you."

Altair did as he was told. He relaxed as best he could and shut his eyes, ready for the intrusion. It came in the form of Malik's index finger slowly pushing past his tight ring of muscle and into the soft, sensitive tissue. It didn't hurt Altair per say but the feeling was new and it took Altair awhile to adjust. As soon as he relaxed around the finger, Malik started to add another.

Stretching Altair was a slow process, but if there was one thing loosing an arm had taught Malik, it was patience. ** As Altair's sharp intakes of breath turned into low moans, Malik added the third finger. Altair's muscles clenched at the pain so Malik did the only thing he could think of to make it better and he licked up the underside of Altair's penis. Once he reached the top, he wrapped his lips around the head and licked the slit, tasting the bitter, salty taste that was uniquely Altair.

The moment Malik's tongue touched him, Altair forgot all pain and was lost in the pure pleasure of what Malik was doing. His back arched off the bed and his toes curled as Malik engulfed him in his mouth and swallowed around him. By this time all three of Malik's fingers were inside him, pumping and stretching.

Without warning or pretense, Malik removed his fingers and sat up on the bed. Altair let out a whimper at the loss and watched as Malik stood and walked to his desk. The older assassin pulled out a bottle containing some type of oil and walked back to the bed. He set the bottle down on the bed and began to undress himself.

Altair, seeing what Malik was doing, moved to help him. When he was undressed, Malik told Altair to get on his hands and knees. Altair complied, turning his head over his shoulder to watch Malik as he dipped his fingers into the jar and spread the oil onto his cock. Then, he oiled the area around Altair's hole and aligned his cock up, ready to push in. "Tell me if it hurts Altair. I don't want to hurt you. You can trust me."

Slowly, Malik entered Altair, pushing in a little at a time, stilling every time Altair would tense and waiting for him to relax. Once he was fully seated in Altair's warmth, Malik pulled most of the way out then shoved back in, fast. Altair made a small noise of protest but didn't tell Malik to stop so he did it again, and again, until he'd worked up a steady rhythm.

"Cazzo, Altair. You feel so good," Malik half said/half panted as he pushed in and out.

"Uh," Altair began to push his hips back into Malik, silently asking for more. "Malik, brother…faster, merda!" Altair's back had begun to sweat and his whole body tensed as he could feel his orgasm approaching.

"You look so sexy," Malik picked up his speed, unable to hold back at all, "marked up like that. Your skin," He grabbed Altair's left butt cheek in his hand and squeezed, propelling his hips into Altair as hard as he could, "looks so hot with the henna. Cazzo!" Malik screamed as he came.

After catching his breath, he pulled out and told Altair to roll over onto his back. Once the Arab was on his back, Malik fell on him and began to kiss him. As they kissed, Malik grabbed Altair's still hard penis in hand and began to pump. Malik's hand worked fast making Altair cry out as he came over their torsos between them.

Malik slowed the kiss and moved so he was only half lying on Altair, more curling up to him than anything else. He closed his eyes and rested his head on Altair's chest, humming in approval.

As he was drifting off to sleep, Malik heard Altair ask, "Brother, how did you learn to do that?" Malik smiled and thought of his blood brother for the first time in hours, "You're not the only brother I have Altair." And with that, he cuddled up next to the other man and drifted to sleep.

_Fin._

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><p>*[Back in present time Shaun Hastings was impressed with the amount of wit Altair demonstrated, silently telling himself that he needed to use a similar line on Desmond sometime soon.]<p>

**[In the animus, Desmond was experiencing the rather pleasurable experience second hand but he couldn't help but to think, "Malik has the patience of a saint. Shaun went way too fast our first time. He really should take a leaf out of Malik's book."]


End file.
